July Writing Projects

My mission to wrap up everything Murderville continues.

This month I’m going to wrap up the revisions on Season 5. For both Season 4 and Season 5, I employed a page limit on my revisions that allowed me to be productive without getting overwhelmed. Back in the day, I could do as much as a whole section in a day and be done with a Murderville season within a couple of weeks at most. I’m not able to do that anymore and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to get back to that place. In the meantime, I’ve set myself the goal of doing 3 pages a day. That way I’m done in roughly a month, give or take, and I’m making consistent progress that isn’t overwhelming.

Once that revision is done, I’ll write the preview stories for both Season 4 and Season 5. I don’t want to get ahead of myself and my productivity, but I’m hoping to at least get started on revising them as well. If not, that will be my goal for August.

My first episode of Book ’em, Danno went live last week. I’m still trying to figure out the best way to consistently produce episodes, but as of right now, I’ve got the first three done. This gives me a little room to refine my process. And it needs a lot of refining. But I’m going to do my best to be consistent (hopefully getting a new episode out every 2-3 weeks) and have a good time.

And you know what else is a good time? Murderville: Rounds of Luck. There’s only two more episodes left and the penultimate episode goes live on July 9th. But it’s not too late to get in on that good time. Become a patron for a $1 an episode. Become a patron for $2 an episode and you get a bonus every other month. Join now!

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Book ’em, Danno -Episode 1

My long-rumored Hawaii Five-O podcast is now available for your listening pleasure. Hopefully. This is my second attempt due to technical difficulties.

So, check out Book ’em, Danno before the gremlins get it again.

This first episode covers, well, the pilot, “Cocoon.”

Soundcloud  iTunes

Listen and enjoy my disclaimers.

Murderville: Rounds of Luck- Episode 6

Speculation

Otis Gorski sat at his kitchen table, eating a peanut butter sandwich, drinking a glass of chocolate milk, looking at that morning’s paper, and stewing in his own juices.

He should have quit last night when Kobel threatened to fire him. He should have just walked away right then, left that pompous twit holding the bag with the two detectives standing right there. Boy, how would that have looked? Not so pretty. Especially since Kobel would have been left scrambling for someone to fill in for him. Velvet couldn’t work alone. Wouldn’t work alone. She’d raise a holy fit if Kobel tried to make her, probably get herself fired for her mouth. Otis didn’t want to put her in that position.

Velvet wasn’t what stopped him from quitting, though she did factor in some. Otis could never leave her hanging high and dry like that. But mostly, it was his pride that kept him from quitting right there. It felt like losing and Otis never liked to lose. There was dignity in retiring that he’d be denied if he quit in a huff. Kobel would probably take a victory lap if he did that.

On page four of the paper was a short blurb about the crime scene being disturbed. The same speculation the detectives had put forth the night before, about the crime scene either having been ransacked by souvenir hunters or perhaps the killer coming back to look for something, was mentioned, as well as a recap of Simon Sidney’s murder, though not much was added. In conclusion, the whole incident was downplayed quite spectacularly.

For some reason, this disappointed Otis.

Probably because he’d so enjoyed Kobel’s name showing up multiple times in the initial newspaper report of the murder. This little blurb didn’t do enough to reflect badly on a man who threatened to fire Otis and Velvet for doing their job and calling the police. He couldn’t help but take that personally even though he knew on a logical level that the paper wasn’t there to serve his personal vendettas.

Velvet should think about leaving, too, Otis thought. She’s got a degree. She can get a good job with it. No need for her to hang around that warehouse rotting for that disrespectful jerk.

Otis flipped the page and reached for his glass of chocolate milk. Empty. He stood up to get a refill. The change in his pocket jingled and Otis remembered the coin he’d found on his rounds the night of the murder. The one he was going to show the detectives because he thought one of them might have lost it. The one he was going to keep if one of them didn’t lose it. The one that was still in his pocket, mingled with his ordinary quarters and nickels. The one he’d forgotten all about.

Otis glanced down at the paper.

The police speculated that maybe the killer had returned to the scene to look for something.

Otis took the coin out of his pocket and looked it over. He frowned and shook his head.

“No. That’s not right. I found this inside the warehouse. The killer wasn’t in there.”

Still.

Otis’s fingers closed around the coin.

“It belongs to somebody.”

###

Who does it belong to? Check out Murderville or Patreon to read along and find out.

June Writing Projects

I decided in May to be kinder to myself while attempting to extract myself from a serious depressive episode. I only worked on one project last month, revising Season 4 of Murderville. Well, I’m still working on both, though it’ll only take me a couple more days to finish up revisions on Season 4 (there’s no timetable for the depression). It turns out that it needed a lot more rewriting than I’d anticipated and I also had to deal with a few more bad days than I anticipated.

For June, I think I’m just going to revise Season 5. Ideally, I want to get the rest of Murderville all wrapped up by the end of the year. Get everything revised and polished and scheduled and ebooked and what have you. I feel like I can handle that.

I also made a little more progress on Book ’em, Danno. I’ve been going back and forth on it because I can’t decide if it’s garbage or not, if it’s worth it or not, if I’m ever going to get better at it or not. I did the same thing with writing a long time ago. Why should podcasting be any different? My biggest problem is, of course, myself. I keep comparing what I’m doing to what other people are doing and the problem with that is that everyone else has been doing it a lot longer and they actually know what they’re doing and have experience and all that. Also, they’ve been able to invest a little bit in their podcasting. I’m broke and tired all the time. The quality just ain’t going to be there, babies.

The compromise I’ve worked out with myself (because I am nothing less than a belligerent toddler) is that I’ll definitely do the first season and put it up on Soundcloud. I don’t have to put it anywhere else and I don’t have to do more than that. I’m not getting paid, so it ain’t work. It’s supposed to be FUN, dammit.

You know what else is fun? Murderville: Rounds of Luck. It’s loads of fun! But there’s only a couple of episodes left. Episode 6 drops on June 11. Become a patron for only $1 an episode! Go in for the $2 tier and get a bonus every other month. Like this month. On the 26th. It’s never too late to have a good time.

Murderville: Rounds of Luck- Episode 5

Back to the Dumpsters

Velvet arrived at work that night toting bits and pieces of gossip in her head, all of it juicy, but none of it definitive. She put her cell phone and her purse in her glove box, locked her car, and hurried against the whipping autumn wind to the backdoor. Once inside The Kobel Warehouse Off Rockrine Road, Velvet quickly navigated the maze to the security room, not pausing to think about what might be lurking in or around that new crate (or the other side of that wall). She found the atmosphere in the security room an odd mix of boiling and icy.

Cami and Trey sat hunched in their chairs while Otis stood behind them, arms folded across his thin chest, absolutely fuming.

“Hey, guys, how’s it going?” Velvet asked hesitantly, looking around the room as she spoke, trying to figure out what the hell had happened.

“Otis is in a mood,” Trey said, getting to his feet.

“He’s always in a mood,” Velvet said, casting a glance at Otis, who was definitely in a mood.

Cami stood up, too.

“Where are you going?” Otis asked, his voice gruffer than usual. “You still got ten minutes.”

“I’ll take the cut,” Trey said, scooching past Velvet to get out of the door. Cami followed right behind him.

Velvet stared at Otis, who stared back. She listened for Trey and Cami to clock out, gave them a second to flee, and then walked back out of the security room to clock in. Otis followed her. The two of them clocked in and went back in the security room to start their shift.

“What did you do?” Velvet asked.

“I didn’t do anything. It’s what Kobel did,” Otis said, sitting heavily in his chair, the damn thing screaming like an overacting victim in a cheap horror movie.

“What did Mr. Kobel do?” Velvet asked, sitting down in her own chair a little more delicately. It still squeaked horrendously.

“Left a message for us.”

Otis sat back in his chair, ignoring the noise, and glared at the monitors. Velvet stared at him for a moment, waiting. With a roll of her eyes, she prompted him, speaking slowly, enunciating every word.

“What is the message, Otis?”

“He said that the next time we need to call the police, we’re supposed to call him first,” Otis said.

Velvet waited and when Otis said nothing more, she picked apart the sentence, looking for the insult.

“So?” she said.

“So?” Otis scoffed. “I’m not deferring my judgment and my responsibilities to that man.”

“It’s his warehouse, Otis,” Velvet said, shaking her head at Otis’s wounded pride.

“And it’s my job.”

“I thought you were retiring.”

“And until I do, this is still my job.”

Otis shut down, going into full pout mode, his whole posture a frown. Velvet sighed, and leaned back in her chair, looking up at the monitors. Why did men have to be so impossible?

Normally, Otis would have walked the first round, but he was in such a fiercely foul mope over his job and retirement that he didn’t even make an attempt to get out of the chair when Velvet told him it was time. So, she walked the first round, her own mood souring over Otis’s behavior and his impending retirement (which she was still not sure he’d actually be able to go through with, but was afraid that he would), her brain rolling over the bits of gossip she’d acquired during the day in an attempt to keep the dark shadow of fear at bay. Because against all logic, Velvet was a little afraid. The killer was long gone. Those shadows were just shadows and those noises were just noises. There was nothing to be afraid of. Yet she was. Just a little.

Velvet completed that round in record time, coming back to the security room to find that Otis’s mood hadn’t improved

“It’s going to be a long night,” she said as she sat down.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you’re in full grump,” Velvet said. “You’re no fun when you’re in full grump.”

Otis grumped loudly in reply. “I’m not here to have fun.”

“Yeah, but it’s only when you’re in full grump that it makes it impossible for me to have fun.”

Otis ignored her. Velvet reached over and gave him a nudge.

“You’re not really going to retire, Otis. Right?”

“My mind is made up, Velvet, and there’s nothing you can do to change it.”

Velvet crossed her arms in a huff. “You’re a real pain, Otis.”

“Well, you won’t have to put up with me for much longer.”

“But I want to put up with you.” Velvet paused. “Except when you’re being a grump.”

Otis didn’t respond.

Velvet left him be for a bit. Her eyes drifted over the monitors in a pattern, starting at the top and working across, then down and across again, back and forth. It was a soothing sort of thing, even if she did end up suffering from eyestrain after a couple of hours. But it was also an easy way to pass the time. It didn’t require much thought.

“I’m going to walk rounds.”

Velvet jumped, her chair squeaking loudly and preventing her from pretending that she hadn’t. Otis looked over at her with a raised eyebrow before his own chair squealed as he got up.

“So nice of you to participate,” Velvet said. “I was wondering since you were retiring if you were going to walk rounds at all.”

“I always do my job,” Otis said, deadly serious.

“Really? You didn’t walk the first round.”

“You didn’t ask.”

“I never have to!”

“I’ll be back.”

Otis stalked out of the security room, flashlight in hand and radio on his belt.

“Maybe it would be better if that old grouch did retire,” Velvet muttered to herself, knowing full well she didn’t really mean it.

She went back to the monitors, watching Otis disappear and reappear as he walked through the maze. Something on another monitor caught her eye. It moved quickly, but Velvet was a little quicker, seeing it before it vanished.

A shadow in the parking lot.

###

Trouble has returned. Or has it? The only way to know is to read. Check out Murderville or Patreon to find out how.

So, I’m Depressed. Now What?

I’ve been in denial about it for months, but it’s true. I’m struggling with a major depressive episode right now and have been for a while. I haven’t wanted to admit it because that means I have an actual PROBLEM instead of it just being a bad day or PMS or lack of sleep or stress. But when there are more bad days than good, the excuses run out and I’m left with the truth.

I’m depressed.

What does my depression look like?

Well, from the outside, I look fine. I’m the kind of person that puts all of my energy into maintaining the basic illusion of functioning. I shower everyday, I eat most of the time, I get dressed, I show up to work when I have a day job, I get my work done. And since I’m an introvert anyway, nobody notices that I’m socializing even less than usual and never leaving my house.

Meanwhile, the chemical imbalance in my brain is ripping me apart. I can’t focus. I can’t problem solve. Everything is overwhelming. I can’t do things as well as I did or I think I should be able to and I’m falling behind and I can’t catch up. More and more things get put off until tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. I don’t have the energy to do anything because every last bit I have is going into maintaining the most basic level of functioning. I don’t have the brain space to write blogs. I barely have the ability to tweet. It takes me forever to accomplish a writing project that would normally take me no time at all. I’m miserable and I don’t see how to fix it and I kinda wanna be done now.

What’s truly frustrating is that the logical thing to do, the advice everyone gives you, is to ask for help. However, my brain has every single rational argument why I shouldn’t. Nobody cares. Nobody has time for your shit. They’ve got problems of their own. There’s worse things going on in the world. Your bullshit is insignificant in comparison. You had a good day last week, right? You’re fine. You’re not depressed. And even if you are, nobody is going to believe you. They’re going to think you’re faking. They’re going to think you’re just a lazy piece of shit. They’re going to roll their eyes and do a jerk-off motion behind your back because they KNOW you’re just doing this for attention, for sympathy, so you don’t have to work or be a responsible human.

So, why am I admitting it now?

It was the realization that there were more bad days than good and that the fallout from taking advantage of a good day (thinking I was totally fine now, everything back to normal) was so debilitating that it made me admit that my brain was not of the okay. But it still took me several days to say the words out loud to another human because, hey, who cares, right? I’m just being a drama queen, saying I’m depressed. It’s just an excuse for me to be lazy and worthless. What do I have to be depressed about? I’ve got any easy life since I’ve so successfully avoided being a real adult. I don’t even have a real job.

Man, if only my brain chemistry could relate.

It turns out that it was probably my bout of anemia that kicked this all off. One imbalance triggering another. The depression might have gotten better as the anemia was treated except that’s when I was in the middle of the disastrous day job that had me so stressed out that my hair was falling out and my anxiety was so bad I couldn’t sleep. That pretty much sealed my fate. Quitting might have helped my stress levels (though my hair is STILL growing back), but the damage was done to my mental health. I haven’t been back to that store since I turned in my keys because just driving by can give me an anxiety attack. Quitting just affirmed what my depression knew to be true: that I’m a loser who can’t even handle a little stress at a crappy day job.

And I’ve been simultaneously ignoring it and battling it since.

Why put this out in the public sphere?

I don’t know. Because I’m tired of pretending I’m okay. Because I’m tired of maintaining the facade of a functioning human. I’m struggling to function at this point. The idea of getting another day job right now is so overwhelming that it makes me want to panic. Hell, just leaving the house makes me sweat.

Because by saying it out loud, I’m admitting it’s real and by admitting it’s real, then I have to deal with it. Time to drag myself out of the pit. I know how to do it. I’ve done it before (though, thankfully, this time is not nearly as bad as it’s been). I just have to remind myself to be patient while I put myself through the paces. Depression doesn’t go away overnight, which is bullshit.

Because by saying it out loud -I’m depressed- I am showing people what depression can look like. I look perfectly fine right up until the minute that I’m not. And that’s a disastrous minute. It’s the minute that everyone refers to when they say, “We had no idea anything was wrong.” You don’t. Because I can still laugh and crack jokes and have a good time and function well enough to fool an audience. I can have good days. And I can still go to sleep and hope I don’t wake up. I can still wish to fade away so I don’t have deal with all of this anymore. I can still feel miserable and utterly hopeless.

Neat, huh?

So, please be patient with me while I right my ship because laws knows I will not be. Fixing this is always the worst because I have always struggled to be kind to myself. I never feel like I deserve it and the depression just amplifies that. Right now I’m coasting on the kindness of others and I’m going to be needing a lot more of that kind of help. It’s going to take me a little while to get back to what I consider normal, so.

Hang in there.

May Writing Projects

April was sort of a wacky month. I took a break from the To Do List to do a couple of things on my wishlist and ended up getting nothing done that I intended, but things did get done.

I was supposed to put together a poetry chapbook and do some research on one of the TV books I want to write one day. What I ended up doing was writing a poem a day (like I usually do in April for National Poetry Month) because I felt like I didn’t have the poems I needed/wanted for a chapbook, working on Book ’em, Danno (it’s still a mess, but getting better), writing one short story to submit for an anthology, and two pieces of hint fiction for a contest.

Wild how that happens, huh?

This month I’m getting back to the To Do List. I’m going to revise Murderville Season 4. Yes, that’s it. I’m dealing with some personal shit right now, so I’m trying to play it with a loose hat, as they say. I need the room to be flexible and committing to only one project this month will let me do that.

Besides, we’ve seen what happens when I give myself a little room. Who knows what I might end up talking myself into doing because I have the time?

However, Murderville: Rounds of Luck is running out of time. Only three more episodes left! Episode 5 goes live on May 14th. Become a patron for only $1 or $2 an episode and enjoy the fun. There’s always plenty of time for that.